His tower, his broken mind
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: He loves the Astronomy Tower, the way it curved ever upwards into the sky, like it will never-can never-end, poking the clouds above James' head. The Astronomy Tower is the place he goes to when things got bad; it is his hiding place, where he cowers through storms, where he sobs into his shirt like a child. (mentions of considered/attempted suicide)


_**Written for the Quidditch Challenge: Finals Round 2. I have to use Hatred as the first and last word, as well as Rain by Mika, Why not, and Don't lie. **_

_**Written for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 92, driving off a cliff. **_

_**Written for the 'Duct Tape Competition' by lezonne, using Dark Blue: Mysterious color, so write about something happening at night.**_

_**Written for the 'Ten time Ten Challenge' by she who is made of stars, using Stone: Amethyst. **_

_**Mentions of considered/attempted suicide. **_

….

_This ordinary mind is broken  
You did it and you don't even know  
You're leaving me with words unspoken  
You better get back because I'm ready for_

_More than this whatever it is  
Baby, I hate days like this_

_-Rain by MIK__A _

….

Hatred.

That's all he can feel for himself-_utter hatred_. Absolute revulsion, he is disgusted with himself. He's worth nothing. He's worth less than nothing.

_Others have stood where you stand now. Why not join them? _

He can't see a reason not to, eyes closed as he makes his way closer to the edge. It had felt like such a long way up, climbing the stairs, but now that he is here, he doesn't feel so high up.

He likes it up here in the late hours of the night, when it is not quite morning, just him in his tower, all alone with his thoughts.

_You're broken, James. You're broken in the head, your ordinary little mind is broken, and no one even knows. _

_No one even cares. _

They hadn't stopped him, they hadn't followed him or chased him, none of his friends. He was all alone up here in the tower. Just him and his broken mind.

_You're sixteen. Are you sure what you're doing is the right thing? You're only sixteen. Please, think about it. James-James, where are you going?_

_James, come back here! Don't leave! _

_Please!_

He loves the Astronomy Tower, the way it curved ever upwards into the sky, like it will never-can never-end, poking the clouds above James' head.

The Astronomy Tower is the place he goes to when things got bad; it is his hiding place, where he cowers through storms, where he sobs into his shirt like a child.

It is in the Astronomy Tower that he first figures out how to turn his thin arms into the strong legs of a stag, antlers sprouting from two points on his forehead.

It is in the Astronomy Tower where he finally gets Lily to laugh at one of his jokes, where she finally admits he isn't the worst bloke in the world.

It is in the Astronomy Tower where he begins to wonder if he's making the right choices, if he's picked the right friends.

(But what's the point in asking? They're your family now, not just your roommates. Whether you like them or not is irrelevant-they are a part of you.)

Should he be so surprised, then, when it is in the Astronomy Tower that an owl drops off a letter in his lap, written on his mother's cream stationary with gold-leaf edges.

It is not his mother's handwriting, though. He is quick to notice that, seeing the scribblings of a foreign hand that is not his mother's swooping words.

_Dear Mr. Potter_

No….no, not on his Mum's best stationary-that's her special stationary, why does some stranger have her stationary, why….he wants to scream, he wants to scream forever and ever, but all he does is crumple to the floor, his eyes blurring as he tries to make out the words.

_Auror duties….Death Eaters…both dead…funeral is on the twentieth…sorry…our sincerest condolences…if there is anything we can do for you, please just name it…._

It in the Astronomy Tower where James' world collapses, as he clings to the letter written in a stranger's hand. He wonders if his parents are truly dead, at first.

Maybe it's all a joke, the cruelly hopeful part of him thinks, imagining writing home only to get a letter back from his parents, telling him how silly he is for worrying.

Why lie, though? Why lie to himself, why pretend that everything is okay, when his parents are dead, and no one can help him.

_Wouldn't you just love to drive off a cliff? _

The others-Sirius, Remus, and Peter-shift around him with a sense of uneasiness, treating him like he might crack at any time.

They come to the funeral with him, and he tries to stand tall as a stranger talks about the wonderful lives his parents led.

James wants to scream, because this man doesn't know James' parents the way James does, the way his dad hated orange juice, or the way his mum always used to make him scrub his teeth twice every night, just in case.

His mum is decorated in amethysts-stones so closely connected with death-and he nearly jumps over to toss them away. Mum hated the purple stones, and he hates them now.

They bury his parents, and James collapses, internally, a part of him dropping away to somewhere he doesn't want to be.

Back at school, James becomes listless and quiet, scaring his friends and alarming his teachers. He is so used to it now, the questions, and the worried glances.

It doesn't anger him-nothing angers him anymore. Nothing upsets him or pleases him, or does much of anything. He's a rag doll, going through the end of his sixth year, because he just wants to finish, to graduate and leave.

And now?

Now he is back at the Astronomy Tower, realising he's not so high up, not really. Would he feel it, falling like a stone?

Would it hurt, or would he be lucky and just fall asleep? Would he see his parents again? James would like to, just to see them once more.

It really wasn't that long of a fall, not really, James told himself, eyes closed as he imagining taking the final step off the edge.

_You might even enjoy it, on the way down. You always did seem to get a kick out of being incredibly dangerous and stupid._

How had he even gotten here? Why had no one followed him or stopped him from climbing the stairs, trudging up the familiar path without any clue as to why?

_No one cares, James. Can't you see that? They've given up on babying you and coddling you. You aren't a kid-you're almost of age and no one cares anymore. _

_My parents are dead. _

_Everyone dies eventually. Get over it. Better yet, just join them. _

It's the one question no one seems to be able to answer: does dying hurt? That's why he picked this way, subconsciously. Dropping off the Astronomy Tower-it can't hurt too bad, right?

_Don't lie to yourself, James. You'd almost be relieved if it hurt more than being set on fire. If you really wanted to do it properly, you'd just take your wand and…_

Why can't he seem to drag himself any farther? Why can't he seem to make himself take that last, teetering step that would send him plunging over the edge, into nothing?

_You want the pain, James, admit it. You want the pain. You hate yourself, and you think you deserve it. Why don't you just stop lying to yourself? Why not? _

Wind blows in his face, and James opens his eyes, tears stinging as he looks down below. It _is _a very long drop to a cold stone path below. It would hurt-and he would like it better if it hurt terribly.

_It's just one more step. I hear it's the last step that truly frees you. That very last step, the one that you control. _

_No one is going to push you into killing yourself-you've got to have that nerve all on your own, or just not even bother. _

His mother's stationary-a stranger's words-the pitying looks, the strange glances, the way everyone acted like he had gone cracked.

What if they were only acting that way because he had?

_Just one more step_-what was the point, then, if they all knew he was crazy_-go on, do it, then. This is getting boring, watching you argue with yourself. _

_Are you going to do it or not? They're going to get here eventually, and then you really will be screwed. They'll only try to talk you out of it. _

He had to. He had to do this, he had to make things better. Dying…dying was the only he was ever going to feel whole again.

Living wasn't worth it anymore. Not for him.

There was only emotion he could feel as he took another step forward: hatred for himself, for being so weak.

Absolute hatred. 


End file.
